Dead Silence, And The Irony Of It
by kelseychicago
Summary: A depressed Fang and a sharp pocket knife. What do you think is going to happen?
1. The Beginning Of The End

**A/N: Thanks for reading! So, I don't really have any idea what this is going to be about yet, but it's either this, or go and eat a piece of my wonderfully delicious-tastic birthday cake, and fan fiction won't make me fat! Hopefully… dun dun duuuuuuunnnn. I decided to write something deep for once, so don't blame me if it sucks. I was kinda feeling depressed, and this is what happened. This is exactly why I need prozac.**

I was going to die.

I was completely aware of that fact. But for some reason, I kept holding on. If not for that one little thing making it's home in the back of my head, you know, like the back of your closet, the things you never even think about anymore, I would have just gave up a long time ago. But, of course, some things _should_ be left in the back of the closet, never to see the light of day again. While lying there, the blood soaking through my sleeve, moistening the black fabric so that it glistened in the moonlight, one word kept swirling through my half conscious thoughts: Max. And along with that tiny three-letter word came a lifetime of pain and longing and frustration. It was chock-full of old and recent emotion, things that I have tried to ignore but haven't completely forgotten about. I kind of wish that all these feelings would have just stayed hidden in the back of my mind, never to be thought about again. It would've saved me a lot of pain, but you can't stay in denial forever when love is on the line. And apparently, so was my life.

I just wanted to forget. That's what this was all about. I suppose my thought process was that if I sat here and dug into my skin with a small pocket-knife, than maybe, just maybe, the constant searing pain of rejection would lessen, if only a little. I had hoped that the physical pain could distract me from my thoughts, but my ingenious plan had epically failed me. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, she was all I could think about. I guess from repetition, my mind had become accustomed, if not completely addicted, to pondering and mulling over why she didn't feel the same way about me, for hours upon hours. While I was falling asleep every night, I would make the same mistake of letting myself think about her, her sparkling deep brown eyes that glistened and shined when she was happy, and became engulfed in fire and furry and cold, unsympathetic rage when she was angry. She had trademarked the death-glare. I thought about her adorable stubborn thick-headedness that somehow made me want her more, even, dare I say, need her. I needed Max. And frankly, that scared me to death. No pun intended. I didn't want to have to depend on another person. It made me feel weak, like I couldn't take care of myself, let alone protect by beloved Max from the numerous evils of the world. It's just so… so unbearably lonely in my head, no one to share all my deepest thoughts and feelings and ideas with. I half expected to see a tumbleweed roll by.

I just wished that all this emotional shit would leave me alone, just for a day, just to see what it feels like to not want to crawl into a hobbit hole and die a slow painful death every time you see the love of your life walk into the room. I hate feeling vulnerable, maybe even more than Max does. Which is why I was ending this. I was ending it today. Nothing could change my mind, and if they could, it would probably be too late anyway. I looked down at the blood covered knife on the floor and thought to myself, almost letting a smile loose on my face, _it won't be long now_. Soon, I would be somewhere, not sure where, where I could finally forget. Forget about Max, about Itex, about Erasers, about the painful experiments at the School, about being left for dead by the only father figure I ever knew, and then being betrayed by that very same person, about knowing my mother was just some knocked up idiot teenager who willingly sold me to evil scientists, and most importantly Max not loving me. Did I already mention that? I think I did. But it's the most important one. The only important one. But it won't be important once I'm dead. Nothing will be. Even if there is nothing, no one waiting for me, no light at the end of a long tunnel, even if this is truly the end and there is nothing out there welcoming in all the suicidal kids' lonely souls, than it will still be better than this. Wandering and wallowing in a black pit of nothingness would be better. Never having another single thought, feeling, or tear. The end will be elegant, graceful. I'll slowly float away, leaving behind all of this. Leaving behind everything. _Everyone. _

**A/N: Dunn dunn duuunnnnnn. SHOULD MAX SAVE FANG? OR SHOULD HE DIE?!?**

**Tell me your thoughts, concerns, ideas, and randomness! JUST SAY SOMETHING DAMMIT!**


	2. Last Goodbyes

**A/N:HEYY YALL! Sorry my inner hillbilly just escaped a little bit there. Well, I didn't think I could end it right there, cause I know how much people hate cliffys. So I shall continue the epic sadness**. **And jeez! Like everyone who reviewed yelled at me saying _Fang wouldn't do something like that_. But here is my question to you. How do _you_ know? Do _you_ know all of Fang's inner thoughts? I don't think so. Also, when kids kill themselves, people rarely see it coming. Even the people closest to them are shocked. They hide it until it's too late for anyone to help them. Plus, come on, if there was ever a reason to be suicidal, having Fang's past would be it. Also, I don't really know, well Fang doesn't really know, if he actually _wants_ to die, or if it's just a cry for help, and he wants to see if anyone cares enough to stop him. Obviously Fang's not exactly in his right mind right now, so yeah. Thus, let the story commence. **

...

I lay on the hard cave floor, thinking of her. I was practically fading away now, slowly disintegrating into nothingness. There was blood all over me by this point, and the metallic sent of fresh, bright red blood filled my nose. I wondered to myself why this was taking so long. Maybe it was an act of God. Or the devil. I'm not sure which. I just wanted to die already.

I thought this might be a good opportunity to write some kind of a note or something. Then I realized that Max wasn't going to need any kind of consolation or peace of mind, because she didn't love me. She was going to be just fine without me. That thought made tears well up in my eyes, but I didn't dare make a sound, not a single whimper. I would never be able to live that down. Wait a second, it doesn't matter. I won't be _living _anything down. I started bawling, quite loudly. I was sure no one was out looking for me, so I could be as loud as I damn well please in my last moments.

It was a slightly depressing sight. Some emo looking kid, lying on the floor next to a bloody knife, obviously a suicide attempt, tried to slit his wrists, (and apparently, so far it seemed like a failed suicide attempt seeing as I wasn't dead yet,) the kid crying to comfort himself, and completely and painfully _alone_. No one sitting by his side, stroking his hair and holding his hand, gently whispering last goodbyes in his ear. No, it's just me, I thought to myself, like the rest of my life, only me, no one else. Sure I had the Flock, but if they really cared for me, they'd come find me.

I desperately wanted to write a note for Max to find lying next to my lifeless body when she found me, if she ever even went looking for me. I wanted to explain to her why I did this horrible, unthinkable thing. I also knew, though, that if I was to explain to her truthfully my reasons behind this, than it would probably upset her. I could picture the note in my head, scrawled out in sloppy uneducated handwriting "_THIS IS YOUR FAULT, MAX. GOODBYE. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU -FANG_."

I was actually kind of pissed at Max. I realize that she didn't do anything to me, and that was the point. She had never done anything to make me stop loving her so much, and it was literally the death of me.

I just couldn't stand not telling her anything though. I had to leave some kind of last words or something. I was way, way too weak to get up to get a pen and paper, so I slowly and timidly dipped my right index finger in the blood on my sleeve, and wrote meekly on the cool rock floor "_GOODBYE MAX_." In that small, poorly constructed sentence I had spilled my guts to Max, explaining my endless love for her. I just hoped that she would be able to read between the lines and realize that.

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**A/N: Sorry, I wanted to let that sink in for a second. I thought it was depressing. Tell me what you thought. Please. I beg of you. Review. Now.**


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